


Pups

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Animals, Ficlet, Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The boys wake up wrong.





	Pups

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Magic shenanigans happen and suddenly all four of the chocobros have been turned into dogs and have no idea how they can change back. Everything's suddenly a lot harder with four legs and no opposable thumbs. Their best bet is to get Cor, Iris, or someone else who can help them figure it out. +++ They're all different breeds of dog +++++ They can still summon their weapons but it's useless cuz Noct can't swing a sword, Gladio can't even lift his sword, Ignis has no coordination anymore, and Prompto doesn't even have fingers to pull a trigger with +++++++ They can all understand each other but when they try to get help, no one can understand them because they just end up barking ++++++++ They get to reap the benefits of being doggos (ear scritches, getting food by acting cute, getting excited when someone says their name” prompt on [the FFXV Kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5690.html?thread=10884154#cmt10884154).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He yawns, loud and high-pitched, then pushes up on all fours, dislodging the warm, fluffy lump at his side. The morning light is streaming through the tent, washing the ceiling in an orange glow. That ceiling’s a lot higher up than he remembers it, and when he looks down, the ground’s a lot closer. Noctis tilts his head and glances at the other massive sleeping bag pulled up next to his. A huge, honey-blond furball is nestled there, its paws curled in and its puffy tail curled around it. It’s the biggest Pomeranian that Noctis has ever seen.

Dazed, Noctis looks wildly around the tent—two other dogs are with him: a lean, trimmed poodle and an enormous German Shepard that makes the Pomeranian look like a tadpole. For one unsettling second, Noctis is sure he’s still dreaming. Except it feels very _real_ , and he’s felt this disoriented before.

He barks, “Iggy!” because that’s the logical person to go to in a crisis—the one with all the answers. The poodle’s floppy ears twitch, and one black eye peeks open. Lifting its muzzle, it yawns, scratches its side with its hind leg, and glances at Noctis. Then it stiffens sharply.

A pit falls into Noctis’ stomach. Those eyes are so very different than _his_ Ignis’, but somehow, he just _knows_ that it’s the same person behind them. The poodle looks around like he did and nudges the German Shepard. The German Shepard groans in Gladiolus’ voice and stretches out, shaking its head out before it stands. 

That only leaves one person for the Pomeranian. Noctis shoves it with one paw, and it rolls onto its back, blinking awake and kicking its legs in the air. Judging from its relative size to the rest of them, Prompto wound up the only small dog. Noctis stretches out his paws to try and figure out what’s become of him, but the black fur and tan feet don’t give anything away. Ignis says for him: “A Shiba.”

Noctis looks up, telling Ignis, “Poodle.” Gladiolus yelps, maybe realizing for the first time what’s happening, and Prompto freezes. Feeling slightly sick, Noctis tells them, “Gladio’s a German Shepard, and Prom’s a Pom.”

“ _What?_ ” Prompto shoots up, bouncing onto all fours and staring wildly at Noctis, then racing over to Ignis, nipping at Gladiolus’ tail before scurrying back over to Noctis’ other side. His voice is still all too recognizable as he whines, “Guys, what the _hell_!”

Ignis, as blessedly calm as usual, sighs. “It isn’t _that_ unusual.” Gladiolus snorts. “We’ve all been turned into frogs before.”

“Then a daemon did this!” Gladiolus growls. He lowers his muzzle to the ground, sniffing at it, and paces around the tent while Ignis goes on.

“There’s no reason to panic. If nothing else, we have every reason to believe this will wear off with time.”

Reaching their bags, Gladiolus noses into one, grumbling, “Damn, and we don’t have any maiden’s kisses left...”

“The hunters will have some,” Ignis reasons. “We aren’t far from their camp, and if we’re lucky, Cor and Monica should still be there. We can stay with them until we’re safe.”

Bewildered, Noctis falls back onto his rump. He sits there, almost numb, while Gladiolus takes stock of everything, and Prompto, evidently realizing he has a tail, starts to chase it in tight circles. Ignis looks at him. There’s a certain sleek, elongated quality to the poodle that does remind Noctis distantly of _Ignis_ , which only makes things more unsettling. Because Ignis seems to be waiting for his input, Noctis nods. For once, he’ll follow all of his advisor’s advice exactly—namely because he’s in no condition to formulate any plans himself.

When Gladiolus finishes observing the whole of their little world, he pads back to the middle of the tent. Facing Noctis, he deadpans, “We can’t abandon the quest.”

Ignis makes a whining noise, more dog than human. “We can hardly seek the Sixth’s favour like this...”

“I can still summon my sword,” Gladiolus insists, and before anyone can tell him otherwise, he slams his paw on the ground, a towering sword coalescing beneath it. 

The other three scramble back to avoid getting sliced, and Noctis, startling to life, snaps, “Watch it!”

Ignoring him, Gladiolus bends to pick up the blade in his teeth. It looks ridiculously awkward, and he seems to have trouble lifting its weight, even though he’s still easily the largest of them. He tries to growl menacingly around it, but it only looks worryingly comical. 

Ignis says for the rest of them, “You look ridiculous. We can’t use our weapons like this.”

Double checking, Prompto summons his gun, which clatters brokenly to the ground. He paws uselessly at it, thankfully avoiding the trigger, whining helplessly. Ignis sighs, and Prompto deflates and lets the gun disappear. Gladiolus follows suit, but even as a dog, it’s easy to see he’s not happy about it. 

Obviously, they’re in no shape to fight demons. Noctis begrudgingly declares, “Yeah... we’ll head back.”

“Can you drive?” Prompto asks.

Ignis shakes his head, which Noctis agrees with, even though it might’ve been fun to see a poodle driving his dad’s car—at least for the five seconds it lasted until they inevitably crashed. He doesn’t like the thought of having to leave the Regalia behind, but he recognizes there’s nothing they can do about it. 

_“Prince Noctis?”_

The familiar voice pierces through the tent, and all four of them snap too attention, Gladiolus instantly crouching and growling. Prompto’s tail starts wagging, and Noctis can feel his doing the same, reacting to the sound of his name. He thinks he recognizes that voice. He gets up to walk towards the tent flap, but Gladiolus cuts him off, cautiously treading out first. He barks loudly, then bolts.

Noctis, glancing at the others, follows.

Cor looks different from below, but not enough that Noctis isn’t relieved to see him. He stops at the sight of four dogs suddenly bounding towards him, waiting as Gladiolus comes up to bark at him. Ignis trails slower behind, but Prompto darts to paw at Cor’s pant leg, looking up and yapping loudly. 

Noctis comes to stand squarely before him. “Gladio, shut up for a sec. Cor—it’s me, we got hit with a new status ailment—”

“Well, aren’t you a handsome thing,” Cor cuts in, which shuts Noctis right up out of sheer surprise. Kneeling down, Cor gently prods Prompto off and reaches out for Noctis’ head—apparently, Noctis still looks like the leader of the pack. Cor curls his fingers behind Noctis ear, then starts lightly scratching, and Noctis’ tail goes crazy. While Noctis’ whole world gets swamped in delightful glee, Cor asks, “Now, where did you lot come from?”

Noctis feels too good to explain. He leans into Cor’s attention, and Cor rewards him with more of it. Ignis tries to explain, “We only just visited—”

Cor reaches out for Ignis, who tentatively comes forward, and then Cor’s petting him too, and Noctis can see the same reaction. Gladiolus barks, “This is no time for petting, Marshal! You need to get us an elixir or something!”

Cor straightens up after, leaving both Ignis and Noctis to whine at the loss, and Prompto to whimper dolefully at never being pet at all. He tells them, “Sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to find your owner—owners?” Shaking his head, he moves right past them, going for the tent and poking inside.

Noctis mutters sullenly, “He doesn’t understand us.”

Prompto waddles after him, yipping to try and get Cor’s attention again. Cor reaches absently out to pet Prompto, which seems to make Prompto’s day. Then Cor rises again with a frown. “They must’ve already set out...” The four men that make up ‘they’ watch Cor pull out his communicator, get no answer, and swear. He looks around, spotting the Regalia in the distance across the rolling plains, and heads towards it.

Gladiolus grunts, “We’re doomed.”

“Not necessarily,” Ignis says. “There’s still a chance we could abscond with healing items from the base...”

But Noctis decides for them all: “We’re following Cor.” Prompto jumps happily. Ignis gives Noctis a _look_ that somehow translates perfectly even through the curly fur and lack of eyebrows.

Noctis figures time is still their best bet. And there’s a chance Cor has restorative items, or that they’ll tip him off some other way. Mostly, Noctis just wants to get pet again.

He takes off after his marshal, and his pack follows, with him to the end.


End file.
